


let the only sound be the overflow

by kay_emm_gee



Series: fathoms below [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, F/M, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 16:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I need to get you free.”</p><p>Raven stilled, then waited. The sailor waited even longer, then slowly pulled. The weight of the net lifted.</p><p>When she sat up, she locked gazes with her rescuer. Dark and soft-featured, he had kind eyes, and she immediately scooted away. Kind eyes could still be lying eyes. Her fin throbbed, and she absently probed at the deep, bleeding gash there.</p><p>“I didn’t know they caught you. I would’ve sent them away sooner,” he murmured, bending down on his haunches. He kept his distance, and she didn’t know if she should be grateful or even more suspicious. He was a sailor after all, with the dark, salt-stained clothes and wind-blistered skin to boot.</p><p>“You’ll need my help to get overboard.”</p><p>Raven glared at him. She knew she needed his help. Still, she didn’t have to like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the only sound be the overflow

**Author's Note:**

> A Wellven companion piece to riptide (you’ll sing the words wrong). Title from What the Water Gave Me by Florence + the Machines.

Raven didn’t know which hurt worse: the net of robes rubbing against her dry scales or the panic burning in her gut. Then the sailors underneath her laughed, jeered, and the panic won. They couldn’t see her fear though; she wouldn’t let them. So instead, she let them see her razor sharp teeth, snarling at them from high above the deck. Still they laughed, and so she snapped her jaw harder.

 _More shark than fish_ , Maya always said with an amused edge.

 _All bubbles, no bite though_ , Clarke used to respond dryly.

Raven swallowed, throat raw from more than just the salty air. She, Harper, and Maya were happy that their friend had won her legs again, but they missed her all the same. She wondered if Maya and Harper were missing her now, both hoping and dreading that they would come looking for her. If they came, they would be captured. If they didn’t–

Something blunt stuck into her fin, and she writhed away from the pressure. Glaring down through her tangle of hair, she saw one of the bolder, crueler sailors poking her with a long wooden pole.

“We want to hear ya sing,” he taunted. “Been awhile since we’ve had a pretty thing like you to entertain us.”

All Raven could manage to do was hiss. Their siren power came from the sea, and she had been up here, hanging from the net, for hours. It had been a foolish moment of distraction, of looking at the stars that flickered in the sky like sand cast across a blanket, that had gotten her caught. Her arms had been spread out wide on the surface of the ocean, hair fanning around her, fin swirling lazily as she kept herself afloat. She hadn’t heard them coming, and then she was tangled, twisted, hoisted high above the deck of their ship in a moldy net. And now they wanted her to sing.

If only she could, she thought darkly. Then she’d have then plunging to their deaths, doing a jig right off the side of the fishing vessel. Dancing to her tune, dancing to their demise.

_If only._

The closest man squinted at her, as if sensing her rage. He poked her with the pole again, and her hands tightened on the chaffing ropes. A few of the other men were edging closer, closer–she gasped when the net suddenly dropped a few feet. A hand pressed against her scales, greedily curious. She writhed, and they laughed.

“Sing, sweetheart,” a younger one taunted. “Sing for us.”

Instead, she let out a screech that had them all cringing.

“Bitch,” one of them muttered.

He cried out when she scratched him in retaliation, satisfaction thrumming through her at the red lines that appeared on his face from her nails. The men snarled, and suddenly pain lanced through her as something sharp pierced her fin. She writhed, and shrieked with fury, and then she was falling.

The breath was knocked out of her when she hit the deck. The net, heavy on her chest, her limbs, only made it worse. They granted her a small mercy when they wrenched the spear out of her fin. Still, she gasped in pain, and they laughed and whistled and their boots clunked closer.

“ _What_ is going on here?” A deep voice bellowed through the night. The boots stopped.

A chorus of gruff _nothings_ sounded, but then someone coughed, snidely, _Your Highness._

“Step away.” The words were soft but steely, and the boots shuffled back. “Now _leave.”_

The sailors scattered. Raven got one blurry glance of the starry sky before a dark face consumed her vision. She lashed out when the ropes pulled against her flaking skin again, but gentle hands caught her wrists, followed by gentle assurances. Refusing to look at the man, she searched for the stars instead, struggling to see them.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

She hissed, and the pulling stopped.

“I need to get you free.”

She stilled, then waited. He waited even longer, then slowly pulled. The weight lifted.

When she sat up, she locked gazes with her rescuer. Dark and soft-featured, he had kind eyes, and she immediately scooted away. Kind eyes could still be lying eyes. Her fin throbbed, and she absently probed at the deep, bleeding gash there.

“I didn’t know they caught you. I would’ve sent them away sooner,” he murmured, bending down on his haunches. He kept his distance, and she didn’t know if she should be grateful or even more suspicious. He was a sailor after all, with the dark, salt-stained clothes and wind-blistered skin to boot.

“You’ll need my help to get overboard.”

Raven glared at him. She _knew_ she needed his help. Still, she didn’t have to like it. He was cautious, though, careful and slow as he reached for her. So careful, that she barely even tensed when he slid his arms around her. One at her back, one under her fin. Warm as he was, Raven couldn’t help but lean into his broad chest as he hefted her off the deck. He shielded her from the biting night breeze as he walked her to the edge of the ship. It took a little maneuvering, but then she was sitting on the railing, his arms were gone, and she launched herself home.

Relief surged through her as the salty water seeped into her skin. Her wound ached in the most glorious way as the sea worked its magic. Although their wounds never healed entirely, they were soothed, eased by the brine. She supposed it was part of the price–they brought death to the blue depths and so the water gave them a little bit of life back in return.

When she surfaced, the stars were still shining, but it was the moonlit glint of her rescuer’s eyes that caught her attention. By habit, her lips parted, and she licked them, the cracks in her skin sealing themselves as the beguiling song of the sea gathered within her. Then he smiled, ruefully, leaning into the wind, standing on the banister, looking at her as he teetered on the edge.

Her voice–her powerful, dangerous voice–stuck in her aching throat. Raven inhaled, watching her sailor watch her with bated breath. The want, the yearning etched into his face struck her, and guilt pooled deep in her belly. He had saved her, and he wanted her, and she hadn’t even sung yet. So, closing her eyes, she sunk below the surface, lingering just under the lapping waves. She breathed, letting her exhales bubble out slowly.

 _A life for a life_ , she thought woodenly.

He had saved her, and now she was saving him. Rapidly she swam, far and away, hands stretching out, fin pumping wildly, thoughts more tumultuous than the currents during a winter storm. She swam until it felt like she was moving through molasses, stuck in place. The ocean drift was weak though, and she kicked out in frustration. She kicked again, and again, until she realized: she was _kicking._

Lucky she had strong arms which brought her to the surface quickly. Sputtering, she blinked the salt water from her eyes and was greeted by the pinkish orange of the dawn. A seagull called loudly overhead, and the faint echo of human voices and water slapping against wood reached her. Raven swam towards the noise, skirting around the harbor growing closer on the horizon. When she stumbled out of the water washing into a cavern in the cliffside, she cursed. Hobbling, she collapsed on a slippery, seaweed covered rock. With resignation, she tried to flex her feet, but only the right one moved.

Maybe this was the sea’s price for her rescuer’s salvation. Maybe she was just unlucky. Maybe the sailor’s spear had just hit the right place at the wrong time.

Maybe she better get off this rock and find some clothes.

Raven stood, making her unsteady, limping way out of the cave and towards the harbor. God willing some benevolent soul would find her first, someone with extra clothing to spare. And if she wasn’t that lucky–well, she had survived on her own long before she had been a siren. She didn’t need an entrancing voice to be dangerous, and the thought made her grin.

* * *

“I need a dozen fish hooks, please.”

Raven froze, hands gripping the bellows too tightly. She knew that voice. A nervous thrum pulsed through her, because she had never been the one to be at the mercy of a voice before. She didn’t like it, the way it made her want to spin around and stay put all at once. She didn’t like the way it made her pulse jump, her cheeks flush. At least she could blame the roaring fire of the smithery for the last one.

She finished fanning the flames, then wiped her hands on her apron in preparation to go up front. Usually Wick handled the customers because although Arkshireport was a large seaside town that saw many a strange traveler, there were still too many (ignorant, stupid, close-minded) people who thought a female blacksmith was too odd to pay services too. Wick himself didn’t care that she was a woman; he had hired her, after all, when she had brought her own plans to him to make her a brace. He well knew she was the better craftsmen of the two of them, but they both needed the money and well-paying patrons didn’t particularly like female smitheys. So she was willing to suck up her pride and stay behind the scenes if it meant more food on their table.

Still, Raven had let go of that voice once; she wasn’t going to do the same again.

“I’ve got this one, Wick,” she announced, swinging out of the back room and sauntering up to the counter. He snorted, giving their customer a careful, curious once-over before disappearing into the workshop.

“You,” the man breathed. His eyes were still kind, but now widened in shock, and to Raven’s own surprise, a bit of awed wonder.

“Me,” she said in a voice she wished was more steady.

“How–”

“You.”

His lips parted in understanding. “Oh.” He paused, leaning against the counter. “Do you miss it?”

The empty ache of her lost power was muted now, dulled by routine and the novelty of life on land. “I’m learning not to.”

“I left the ship. Got hired on a new crew. A better one,” he announced quickly, insistently. He lifted his chin, not in challenge but with pride.

She couldn’t help smiling in amused approval. “Can’t be because of me.”

“It was.”

His earnestness took her by surprise. Then she took herself by surprise when she stretched out her hand and rested it on top of his hand.

“You were worth it too,” Raven murmured as his palm turned under hers. Calloused and rough, his fingertips grazed the base of her thumb, her wrist. She shivered.

“Wells. My name is Wells.”

Raven whispered her name in return, flushing at the warm smile it brought to her sailor’s face.

“I leave on a trip in a week,” Wells blurted, and then she was grinning.

Leaning over, she kissed him, licking salt and sweetness from his lips. “But then you’ll be back.”

“As long as you’re here,” he said, hands firmly cupping her pulled her in for another taste. This kiss was more heady, hotter, and Raven melted as he molded her mouth with his.

“Don’t leave me waiting too long,” she murmured as he pulled away.

“Not even sirens could keep me away.”

Raven laughed, his broad responding smile filling her with something more powerful than the sea could ever have given her: hope.


End file.
